


Serenity

by Eclaire-de-Lune (RoyalHeather)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Gore, Helmsman, Space Pirates, Spaceships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 06:49:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoyalHeather/pseuds/Eclaire-de-Lune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scavenging on the edges of space, you're never sure what to expect. After all, when space pirates attack, there isn't a troll on the crew they don't leave alive. But technically, helmsmen don't count as trolls. Short fic with troll OC's, set in Condesce-era Alternia with a side of Joss Whedon's Firefly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serenity

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [One of Our Submarines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/341204) by [VastDerp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VastDerp/pseuds/VastDerp). 
  * Inspired by [A Sailorman's Hymn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/240010) by [VastDerp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VastDerp/pseuds/VastDerp). 



It’s 0945 hours when one of the scout droids sends in a report on an abandoned vessel, C-class transport, maybe half an hour away. You watch the footage while Hargan stands over your shoulder. The vessel is dead in space, rotating slowly over itself. As you watch a bit of broken metal detaches itself from the hull and goes drifting off.

“Looks structurally sound, though,” says Hargan. “Get a scan on it, the cargo might still be left.”

You type out instructions to the droid. Within seconds results come streaming back.

“Hull’s solid for the most part, looks like about half the ship has life support…ohhh, Captain, look.”

Hargan puts a hand on the back of your chair and leans closer to the screen. “What?”

“They’ve got a helmsman. Looks like the ship’s not completely dead after all.” You tap a few more keys and scan the new information. “Yup, it’s running on auxiliary power. Engine 1’s knocked out and Sections 2 through 4 of mechanics are caput, but all the navigation and biotech seems mostly okay.” _HICS Narada_ , C-class, clearance 4-4612-Φ12, Ghost type, out of Black Dune shipyards by the looks of it. “Do you think it’s worth a go?”

“Can’t hurt. Even if pirates did gut it, at least we can get a look at the tech.” Hargan straightens. “Right, tell the crew to get ready. Will we need suits?”

Biting your lip, you look through the scans. “Yeah, if we want to get into the cargo bay. Looks like everything aft of the pilot room has lost power. Hmm.” You scroll down a bit. “I’m betting if the helmsman’s still operating it’s funneling all available power to the computers and biotech.”

“Good enough for me.” Hargan reaches over your shoulder and grabs the intercom. “Attention, crew, this is your captain speaking. Looks like we’ve got a salvage job. We’ll be docking in about half an hour, so get your crap together. Karbis, Derria, Adesto, be prepared to suit up, cargo bay doesn’t have life support.” He holds the intercom away, looks down at you from olive-green eyes. “Coming?”

You shrug, looking down at the keys. Normally, you wouldn’t, but…there’s a helmsman. You’ve never encountered biotech before, not like this. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m coming.”

\--

The control room of the Narada is lit only by the dim red pulsing of emergency lighting. You seat yourself at the main computer, press the “===>” key experimentally. The screen flickers and comes up with an “ERROR” message – authorization not found.

Piece of cake. You focus on hacking into the hard drive while Hargan wanders around the control room, poking at various bits of dying machinery.  
“Oooh, okay, here we go,” you say.

**MÛo�5@Ÿh˜–¤\\`‘±ÀÁ¯iøgû\|u¶ðÆžšÇÆ�‹WwÝW›Æ‹±r2rLùï^qáO‡¶öÿ  
**HISC 'ñïJ¥e\  
******HISCHISCHISCHISCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC**

“Oh.”

**HISC NARADA ID R56-3432-θ C-CLASS  
**> access/ log: id-CAPTAIN  
******> access/ log: id-PILOT**

_“Oh.”_

** >access/ log: id-CAPTAIN**  
**ENTRY 74 DATED 7-9-4612 0705 hours**  
**ENTRY 73 DATED 3-9-4612 1222 hour**  
**ENTRY 72 DATED 15-8-4612 0834 hours  
**ENTRY 71 DATED 14-8-4612 1650 hours  
**ENTRY 70 DATED 10-8-4612 1037 hours  
**> select entry  
************> view earlier entries

**ENTRY 74 DATED 7-9-4612 0705 hours**  
** NADRAS ESKSOT ID 745-M7CC-TEA **  
lEAvIng AstErOId 18-Δ fOr plAnEtsIdE, cArgO scrAp mEtAl frOm mInEs InclUdIng dAmAgEd mAchInEry frOm rEcEnt ExplOsIOn. crEw All wEll. ExpEctEd dOckIng In fIvE mOnths.

“I was right, Captain, it _is_ scrap, out of the mines. Bet we could find a trader.”

“Depends on the condition it’s in, might be better to turn it in for slag. That the last entry?”

“Most recent one, yeah. Let me check the pilot’s log, though.”

**> access/ log: id-PILOT  
**ENTR\\\µl€$�¥O¢XÁ’”aû****

“Yikes.”

** >access/ log: id-PILOT**  
**authorization not found**  
**authorization not found  
**authorization not found  
**authorization not founo you cant  
**stop  
************you cantá-CM–ÎÅÍµþ£stÐÜ\\]Bd?»•WµÄ4òc å~²¸

“Is that…” You can’t help it, your fingers shake over the keyboard. Hargan leans over you.

“Looks like a bit of the helmsman’s still stuck in the computer,” he says. “Poor bastard.”

 **> access/ log: id-PILOT **  
**~OVERRIDE SECURITY PROTOCOL 1 3 8 9 0**  
**>**  
**>  
**identification required  
**> NADRAS ESKSOT ID 745-M7CC-TEA  
**>  
**>  
**NADRAS ESKSOT is classified as DECEASED  
****************identification required

You look up at Hargan. He shrugs. “Use your ID.”

**> ARIELA CANTAR ID 820-F9JI-COP**  
**>  
**>  
**ARIELA CANTAR is not a registered crewmember of this vessel******  
**identification requirmœ"ª¨Ryà :~µÀ|`ð¿þkÚ™$VÓêd‘GrK—**

**> access/ log: id-PILOT**  
**ENTRY 1240 DATED 3-10-4612 0900 hours**  
**ENTRY 1239 DATED 3-10-4612 0800 hours  
**ENTRY 1238 DATED 3-10-4612 0700 hours  
**ENTRY 1237 DATED 3-10-4612 0600 hours  
**ENTRY 1236 DATED 3-10-4612 0500 hours  
**> select entry  
**************> view earlier entries

“It let me in. Why?”

“Dunno. Check the entries.”

**ENTRY 1240 DATED 3-10-4612 0900 hours  
** help me

**ENTRY 1239 DATED 3-10-4612 0800 hours  
** help me

**ENTRY 1238 DATED 3-10-4612 0700 hours  
** help me

**ENTRY 1237 DATED 3-10-4612 0600 hours  
** help me

**ENTRY 1236 DATED 3-10-4612 0500 hours  
** help me

Your throat is suddenly very dry. You try to swallow, and wish your hands weren’t shaking so badly.

“Look for the next entry after the captain’s,” says Hargan. His voice is carefully controlled.

**ENTRY 667 DATED 7-9-4612 0700 hours  
** leaving asteroid 18-Δ

**ENTRY 668 DATED 9-9-4612 2014 hours**   
unidentified vessel sighted  
please identify

**ENTRY 669 DATED 9-9-4612 2017 hours**  
engine 1 reports failure  
failure caused by detonation of self-propelled guided weapon  
origin of weapon traced to unidentified vessel  
please identify  
please identŽu;£p ÉÄŠ‡

**ENTRY 670 DATED 9-9-4612 2021 hours**  
trolls unregistered as crewmembers present on board  
get off me  
it hurtsFÂ+d“åAŽGÚ€Ï9Úp7¯

**ENTRY 671 DATED 9-9-4612 2022 hours**  
NADRAS ESKSOT ID 745-M7CC-TEA – DECEASED  
CANITI ARBONA ID 723-F6JD-YEL – DECEASED

**ENTRY 672 DATED 9-9-4612 2023 hours**  
BELTOF ENIBOR ID 697-M3GV-COP – DECEASED

**ENTRY 673 DATED 9-9-4612 2024 hours**  
AMADEA MENTAS ID 642-F7JK-OLI – DECEASED  
LARHAT PELKRA ID 791-M5OW-YEL – DECEASED  
JANORM BEHART ID 731-M2KO-OLI – DECEASED

**ENTRY 674 DATED 9-9-4612 2026 hours**  
power levels sinking  
auxiliary power enabled  
diverting all energy to computers and pilot  
¬ÿ âb‚õU¡•¶—?x†Ý¹@=�æ¹¯-ýŠþ'Y|g³ñÇ‰-it hurts  
it hurts  
it hurts

**ENTRY 675 DATED 9-9-4612 2100 hours**  
help me

**ENTRY 676 DATED 9-9-4612 2200 hours**  
help me

**ENTRY 677 DATED 9-9-4612 2300 hours**  
help me

**ENTRY 678 DATED 9-9-4612 2400 hours**  
help me

“Must have been pirates,” says Hargan grimly. “They couldn’t ping anyone for help?”

“Not for lack of trying. Looks like the _Narada_ was sending out the distress signal right until the system failed.” You sigh, scroll up with the tap of a fingernail. “Right at 2026 hours.”

You look through the entries, almost a perigee’s worth of pleas for help that no one could ever hear. “Cap…we’ve got to do something. He’s still alive down there. We can’t just…leave him.”

“I don’t think he’s in any shape to be fixed up, thought…”

“Then we’ll put him out of his misery. Captain, we can’t just walk away from this.”

He sighs, gruff and heavy. “Yeah, I know.”

You get up from the chair, kick shrapnel out of the way. “D’you know where he’d be?”

“Probably under here. There’ll be a maintenance shaft near the door.”

You step through the door and sure enough, there it is, a panel of dusky metal that’s been kicked in and battered to reveal a shaft with a ladder. You climb down the ladder and –

And –

It’s horrible.

There are tentacles, tentacles everywhere, horrid slimy strands the color of dead flesh wrapping around the walls and the ceiling and the floor and all feeding into the limp body hanging in the middle of the room. The stench of sweat and vomit and rot (but mostly rot) is overwhelming.

“Well,” says Hargan gruffly.

The pirates must have gotten in here, you realize. There are sliced tentacles everywhere, their cores wiry and mechanical. And the helmsman…

You are very nearly sick.

They’ve smashed in his nose so that the entire lower half of his face is crusted in dark red. They’ve hacked off his horns so that what’s left is two rust-colored stumps. They’ve slashed open his torso so that organs are visible between the ragged edges of decaying flesh, twitching lungs and a shivering heart.

You want to puke. You can feel the convulsions trying to climb out of you, but you are stronger than that. Besides, by the smell of things the helmsman’s already gotten rid of whatever was left in his stomach a dozen times over. The last thing this room needs is more bile.

You take another step closer. And another.

“H-hello?” you say.

He hangs there, limp. The only part of him that moves is his insides.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

He twitches. And then something like a squeak and something like a sigh slips out of his ruined mouth.

“Can – can you? Hear me?”

He twitches again and the lights flicker. Behind you, Hargan says, “Ariela, come look at this.”

He’s pointing to a screen in the wall, over a keyboard. The screen is cracked, but coming back to life. You hurry over to stand beside Hargan and read the words that appear on it.

¨iÁºW,can  
hear  
you  
i can  
hear you

“Oh,” you breathe, and turn back to the helmsman. “It’s okay, don’t worry, everything’s gonna be fine –”

You’re babbling, you realize.

cant be  
fixed  
too much damage  
repairs are untenable

You sigh. Yeah, you’d known that. The only reason he’s still here is because he’s plugged into that thing…a dying ship and a dying pilot, keeping each other alive…

He’s young, you realize. He can’t be older than nine sweeps.

“If we power down the whole ship – shut off auxiliary – it’ll put him out…” says Hargan.

dont  
dont leave  
dont please  
please  
help me

“We’re not going anywhere,” you murmur. “Captain, can you do it from here, or…”

Hargan shakes his head. “I’d have to go back up to the control room.” He looks at you seriously. “Powering down the ship means cutting off life support.”

“We’ll have heat and air enough for a few minutes,” you say. “It’s enough time to get offboard.”

“True,” says Hargan. “I’ll go do that, then.” As he climbs up the ladder, you can hear him issuing instructions to the other crew members via portcom.

You turn back to the helmsman. The room really isn’t very big; five or so steps would bring you nose to nose with him. “I’m sorry,” you say.

He twitches. More words appear on the screen.

the ship must fly  
must  
helmsmans duty  
must fly

“You’ve done more than your duty,” you say gently. “It’s all right.”

must fly

With a sigh, you turn and stand in front of him. Behind the ruined goggles, his maroon eyes are large and unfocused, half-shut, and his battered face is slack.

You shudder when you realize that there’s a slim tentacle coming _out_ of the corner of one of his eyes.

He moans and twitches again; you step back a little and turn towards the screen.

did  
all I could

“Yes, you did,” you say. The thrum of auxiliary power grows quieter; you’ve got maybe a minute until the ship dies completely.

Until he dies completely.

And somehow without meaning to you find you’ve stepped forward and pressed your palm to his dank cheek, smoothing away hair stringy with slime and sweat, rubbing your fingers behind his goatlike ear. He breathes a moan and turns his face infinitesimally into your hand.

You’d heard somewhere, once, that once a helmsman’s been commissioned he doesn’t feel his body, that any physical sensation comes from the ship itself. You guess that’s just a lie to make people forget that their pilot is still a troll who once had a hive and a lusus and quadrants…

“It’s okay, sweetie,” you murmur. “It’s over. You can rest now.”

The lights go, and there is complete silence.

You can hear a wet tearing sound as the biowire starts to slowly slide out of him. You don’t wait for him to fall; you snap on your flashlight and hurry off the ship.

There’s nothing you can do except fly away and leave the Narada floating endlessly in space. You think wistfully of explosives; it doesn’t seem right, somehow, leaving his corpse to slowly decompose in that metal shell. But you’re only a salvage ship, with nothing powerful enough to blow up a C-class.

You don’t know if there are such things as gods, but you pray for that helmsman. Just in case. 


End file.
